


Just Clothes

by WallSpin



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm probably gonna end up having ancom and commie smooch just fyi, Trans Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallSpin/pseuds/WallSpin
Summary: Ancom is non-binary, and while qi might wear hoodies and jeans and cover qir face most of the time, qi doesn't always want to. But wearing skirts and having that not be a big deal is kinda hard when you're not just hanging out with a bunch of anarchists anymore.
Comments: 38
Kudos: 151





	1. Chapter 1

Commie awoke to the sound of muffled screeching and yelling, as was often the case since he'd agreed to live in this marx-forsaken house, he thought to himself. Somehow though, it seemed louder than usual.

"God, what the hell are dey arguing about now" He grumbled into his pillow. 

Looking up with slitted eyes, he was dismayed to see that it was six in the morning. He was a good communist, and it wasn't as if he didn't get up bright and early most days, but god in heaven, who is awake at 6AM on a _saturday_.

He was about to completely abandon any plans he had started to form about breaking up the fight, and just roll over and try to go back to sleep for another hour, when there was a resounding CRASH.

Commie shot up, grabbed his gun, and shoved some pants on. As he rushed to intervene, he idly wondered what the hell would cause one of them to tackle the other.

* * *

Ancom had been having a good night. Qi had spent the entire evening and well into the early morning doing some good drugs, and one of qir friends had lent qim a skirt when qi had started drunkenly rambling about missing qir's, and how unfair it was how easily clothes got lost. Ancom had felt euphoric in a number of ways as qi had stumbled back into the house.

But yeah, no, nice things are doomed to never last apparently, because the instant qi had managed to figure out getting the key into the lock, qi had heard the Nazi's voice.

"Hah, you are looking even more degenerate than usual, queer. The pronouns are one thing, but I don't know if the crossdressing is going to make me throw up or die of laughter." He mocked.

It took Ancom a moment to rise enough from qir haze to get angry at the little shit, but qi made up for the delay by starting qir yelling at twice the volume than usual.

"You take that the hell back, bigot! There's nothing wrong with me wearing skirts or any other kind of clothing, and what do you fucking mean about my pronouns, it's not that hard-" 

Qi was cut off by Nazi cracking up obnoxiously, the man trying to begin to say something twice, and twice being blocked by his own chuckles. By the time he finally managed to speak coherently again, Ancom was practically shaking with rage, gripping qir bat firmly.

"You really think there's nothing wrong with you acting like you're anything but a man playing dress-up with petty words and clothes? If it weren't for the centricide I'd want to put you out of your misery, you look _pathetic_."

Ancom had had enough. Qi screeched, "I am going to bash your transphobic face in, just you fucking try to stop me!" And the ideology jumped at Nazi, so angry that qi didn't even bother using qir bat, just tackling him to the ground.

The two of them grappled on the floor, managing to knock over a chair in their wake and it fell to the ground with a bang.

* * *

As he reached the base of the stairs, Commie had to take a second to just stare at the two of them. Ignoring the way that they were trying to punch each other's lights out, it was a pretty comical display. Like two cats batting at each other. Hah, Anarkitty, he thought.

A moment later Commie reminded himself that he should probably _do_ something about the fact that one of them was likely going to knock the other out in short order. It was probably going to be Anarkiddy, not to belittle his fighting skills in any way, but he looked to be high as all hell. Or well, quee? Commie was too tired to get the pronouns right in his head.

Shaking his head, he strode forwards and spoke, "Stop fighting! How are we meant to be a strong union against the centrist scum when you fight on floor like children?"

When neither of them listened to him, and Nazi actually managed to land a decent blow to Anarkiddie's head, the communist got fed up. He reached forwards, grabbed the leftist by qir hoodie, and dragged them apart with a small grunt. When Nazi reared up to follow, Commie ignored his cargo's slight struggling and pointed his gun at him. 

"Drop it, Nazi. He's had enough."

"The degenerate little gremlin was the one who _jumped_ me, how can I be blamed for defending myself from him?"

While commie had been distracted by the other authoritarian, Anarkiddy had put qimself back together a bit, and mustered up the energy to get spitting mad all over again, now with the both of them.

"IT'S QI/QIM, WHAT IS SO HARD ABOUT NOT MISGENDERING ME?"

" _Misgendering_ you? It's not exactly possible to mistake you for anything other than what you are." Nazi drawled.

Commie was bracing for the anarchist to start trying to escape from his grip towards the Nazi, and was taken off guard when his, uh, qir's? Face crumpled, and qi pulled away in the opposite direction and fled. It was only then actually, that Commie realised what Anarkiddy had been wearing.

Nazi eyed the gun a little warily, staying still and brushing down his shirt smugly once he realised that Commie wasn't going to be doing anything with it. He cast his eyes between where his fellow authoritarian was staring, the retreating anarchist, and the man himself, standing stock still with a vague look on his face. Taking a wild guess at what his reaction was, Nazi started in on his mockery again.

"Well, he's a sorry sight isn't he?"

"Leave him, uh, qim be Nazi." Commie said, not terribly assertively.

Nazi snorted, "You're really going to go along with that?"

Commie didn't answer immediately, just frowned more threateningly. He then said, "Don't go near Ancom for the rest of this week, do you understand me?" His gun was shaken in emphasis.

"Sure, I hear you." Nazi said patronisingly. "Have fun being pathetic with your pet degenerate, Commie." Head held high, he also retreated, most likely to play Call of Duty and fill the house with the sound of him yelling slurs at 12 year olds.

Commie shook his head, not looking forward to his next meeting with Anarkiddy. The leftist would almost certainly be in a pissy mood that he'd have no idea how to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, I'm a trans man so I'm probably not gonna get all the nuances of being an amab nb person down pat, but no offense to jreg, his series is funny as shit, but I think I can get it a bit more accurate than canon ancom haha. Cause while part of being trans is having to be annoying as shit to get people to actually use your pronouns, there's other bits too haha. (Tho I will say here big love for the trans peeps out there where the only thing they change is the pronouns, you're valid as shit and I love you!)
> 
> Anyways that's enough sincerity, it's fuckin jreg fic what am I doing, I have betrayed all of you.


	2. Chapter 2

Qir hands were shaking. Shit. Ancom had thought that qi had sobered up at least a little, but qi were struggling more than qi had with the front door. Well, not that the knock to the head, or hearing Tankie and Nazi’s words ringing through qir mind was helping much either. Qi took a deep breath and finally managed it, swiftly shutting it behind qim.

Qi weren’t even sure why it was hitting so much harder than usual, qi heard this crap all the time,  _ he him, _ Nazi raving about degeneracy. It made qim angry usually, sure, but qi could deal with a certain amount of it, you kinda had to living with people who didn’t quite get it. Well- that was sort of an understatement in Nazi’s case qi supposed.

Either way, it felt like shit. And now that qi were nearing the end of qir high, qir head was pounding to boot. Qi thought for a second about toughing it out and going to bed, not taking anything else with qir head like this. It may have even been less than a second, how fast qi had snorted and thrown that idea out on it’s ass. What the hell was a coping mechanism for if you didn’t use it after all?

Peering through qir trash heap of a room, qi searched for something to take to numb out whatever was going on with qir emotions. Eyes finally settling on a bottle of vodka, qi shrugged and settled down on the stained couch, trying to decide if qi wanted to bother with a mixer for it. Tiredness, and a hollow aching in qir chest ruled it out pretty quickly, and qi suffered through drinking a couple swigs straight. Qi had to laugh once qi’d had qir fill, imagining Tankie making faces at how bad qi were at drinking vodka.

Ugh, qir damn head, managing to think of him again, the _instant_ qi had started to feel even the slightest bit better. Qi sloppily set down the bottle and kneaded qir eyes with the heels of qir hands. It was bad enough when shitheels like Nazi were dicks about this or that, but somehow it hurt multitudes more to hear someone qi actually cared about call qim “he”. Qi didn’t know how it could sting worse than listening to any number of slurs, any number of echoes of the thoughts qi had when qi were most dysphoric, any shitty mocking smirk coming from Nazi.

Qi let out a tired groan, and cursed qir head for being the most maudlin hellhole possible. Also maybe the alcohol, there was a reason qi went for LSD, heroin, or _anything_ stronger usually, alcohol tended to just make it worse. Qi kinda wanted to change out of the skirt by now, the buzzing happy feeling qi had felt in qir chest earlier at the feeling of it brushing at qir ankles had been utterly snuffed by Nazi’s words. Qi didn’t think qi could quite muster up the energy to get up and do it though, so qi made qir peace with it and lay down to nap for a bit as was.

* * *

As he went through the motions of his morning routine, Commie had to fight to urge to go check on Anarkiddie. It wasn't like him to back out of a fight, no matter how high he was, it honestly usually made him more vicious. But yeah, no, he needed a bit longer to process the fact that the anarchist had been, presumably still _was_ , wearing a skirt. 

It wasn't as if Commie could forget that Anarkiddie was non-binary, what with how loud the complaints were about his pronouns, but he still did tend to forget what that actually meant. Hence, stewing in the vague guilt he felt over kind of forgetting that he was actually, well, serious about, yeah, that.

But yeah, probably not smart to actually talk to him right now, even if he did want to check to see if the head injury was anything serious, and make sure that he had actually done some first aid instead of just leaving it, and… Fuck. He growled under his breath and went back to decidedly _not_ thinking about it. Anarkiddie could handle himself.

"You look like someone forced you to eat a lemon, whole. Rind and all." Said Ancap, his voice making Commie jump just a little.

"I am not in the mood Kulak, leave."

"It's _my_ house! And I can't just leave every time one of you gets into a mood, I'd never get anything done."

"Not exactly a change from usual then is it, Kulak?"

"God you really are in a snit this morning, who pissed in your cereal? For that matter, do you have any idea why the other two have been holed up all morning, if I cared I'd be a little worried."

"No idea." Commie said through gritted teeth.

The Ancom stared at him for a second, before pushing his glasses down to stare a little closer.

Just as Commie was about to snap at him to look elsewhere, he spoke. "Well, now I'm actually almost worried. Seriously, what happened, if it's _that_ bad you probably need me to talk to one of them before you hurt yourself fighting that stick up your ass."

Surprisingly, Commie actually found himself considering the proposition, and actually about to open his mouth to ask him to check in on Anarkiddie.

"Though I would have to charge for my time, you understand, nothing's for free!"

Commie snorted in disgust. "Capitalist pig. It's nothing"

That was enough, he'd check on him himself. He turned on his heel, and headed for the Kulak's bread stash. Stealing what he needed he continued upstairs, down the hall, and reached Anarkiddie’s room. Commie knocked on his door. After an awkward pause with no response, he decided just to open it.

Squinting to see into the dark room, he spotted the anarchist lying on his sofa, hand loosely wrapped around a bottle of vodka. His face was screwed up in a frown, probably due to the black eye that was decidedly forming by now, and he seemed to be fast asleep.

Commie strode over and shook his shoulder, just a little. “Wake up Anarkiddie.” He said, in a low tone.

* * *

Qir head, _ugh_. Who was, fuck qi didn’t want to be awake, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off. Wow the booze had kicked in while qi were asleep.

“Anarkiddie, I just want to check on your head, you looked hurt earlier.”

Fucking Tankie. Grudgingly, Ancom lifted qir head and met his eyes. “Jus let me sleep Tankie, I’ll be fuckin’ fine.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And? I felt like shit, I can drink if I wanna. We can’t all be perfect respectable leftists.”

“I wasn’t-” Tankie frowned, looking frustrated. “I just- Can you just let me check your head? I’ll let you sleep after.”

Shit. God qi were a dick when qi were drunk. “Sorry Commie.” Qi said quietly, fighting qir limbs to get upright. Once Ancom was sitting up qi was distracted for a second by qir hand, it felt like it was almost _buzzing_ in this weird tingly way. Qi waved it around slightly, snickering a little at how it moved.

Tankie cleared his throat, and qi blinked and looked up, remembering that he had wanted to check qim. “Oh uh, go to town.” Qi said, gesturing to qir head, accidentally hitting it as qi did and flinching. Ouch.

Qi stared down at qir hands some more, while Tankie parted qir hair to take a look at qir scalp. He pretty quickly moved on to prodding around the black eye, with this, well, honestly kinda hilarious look on his face. All scrunched up and worried-angry. Like angry at himself that he was worried? Ugh, Ancom didn’t know, qi were drunk and it was funny.

“Well, you should put ice on it, but you look to be fine comrade. I know I said I’d let you sleep, but uh, I got you some of the kulak’s bread.”

“Oh. Thanks Commie!” Ancom smiled. Qi were almost feeling a little better by now.

“It is no problem.” 

Ancom had to fight laughter even harder, despite genuinely feeling kinda touched, The _look_ on his face. Why was his face so stupidly funny today? Qi realised a beat later that qi were staring, shit. Qi looked away.

“Say uh, Tankie, do you wanna like, watch a movie? I torrented eat the rich the other day.”

“Sure comrade.”

Ancom grinned and then qi hopped up, only a little unsteadily, to root around for qir laptop. It was somehow only by then that qi realised that qi were still wearing the skirt. Qir shoulders just sorta uncontrollably tensed, but qi tried to shrug it off and act casual. Tankie hadn’t _said_ anything about it, he probably didn’t care, and for fucks sake, qi didn’t care what he thought. Yeah.

Yeah no, that was in no way convincing to anyone, maybe qi should just like, ask what he thought. As qi kept searching, qi quietly spoke. “So uh, earlier was something huh.” Wow yeah, very casual. Very cool. Well done.

“Da”

And there was the silence. Shit. Ancom found the laptop, and turned back to face Tankie, catching the man staring at the skirt with that same face as earlier. It was a lot less funny all of a sudden.

“What.”

“It is nothing comrade.”

“I mean, it kinda clearly fucking is! Do you have a problem?” And yeah, alright, that felt better. So much easier to be angry than to be scared.

“It is not, I just forget that you are,” Tankie waved his hands in Ancom’s direction. “Sometimes. That is all.”

Ancom laughed a little bitterly. “Yeah, I couldn’t possibly tell, with the misgendering and all.”

“It is just, you do not usually do things like this, it slips my mind sometimes.”

“Oh yeah cause me dressing like I want goes so well. Excuse me for not performing enough for you to justify bothering not treating me like a man.”

“I do not treat you as a man! I tell the Nazi not to either!”

“You tell him to respect my pronouns while you fuck them up yourself! It’s almost fucking worse than him treating me like a monster, the way you pretend to give a shit one minute and do the opposite the next. Get it into your head that I’m not a fucking man or just stop pretending, but stop jerking me around.”

“The Nazi treats you like monster?”

And yeah no, that was enough. “Get out Tankie. I don’t need you fighting my battles just to look good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha yeah it's big projecting how I feel about people pretending to respect me hours. Shit makes you a big ol' ball of rage, I can tell you that.


	3. Chapter 3

Ancom needed to get out of this fucking house. Hang out with some people who just, treated qim as qim, no questions asked, no funny looks. Do some nice, strong, actually  _ effective _ drugs.

The centricide was good and all, but yeah, no, fuck the centricide for a couple days alright?

Qi would call An-syn, he might get on qir ass sometimes about “alienating potential comrades” and “not doing useful praxis” but at least he didn’t stare at qim like qi were a fucking zoo animal.

First though, it was time to actually change. Qi needed a nice shapeless hoodie and pants to hide in. The skirt could sit at the bottom of some duffle bag somewhere with the rest of the feminine shit qi barely ever felt comfortable enough to use.

* * *

“And like, one minute he’s like  _ boom pow leave anarkiddie alone _ , and the next he’s just, staring at me like I’m gross, and just, fuck Tankie okay? Fucking, fuck!”

Ancom gestured with qir hand at the ceiling to emphasize what qi were saying to An-syn.

“Yeah, Tankie can be a dick sometimes."

"Understatement." Ancom snorted. "And he never shuts up about theory, you'd think he slept with a copy of the manifesto under his pillow."

"Ehh, you're both terrible about theory Ancom, he's addicted to the shit, and you act like you're allergic to it. There is such a thing as a comfortable middle ground y'know?"

Qi let qir head flop back so qi could glare at the other anarchist. "Sounds like centrist talk to me." Qi huffed. An-syn just smiled back at qim and ruffled qir hair a bit.

"God, the worst part is when he's nice though, y'know? He stops being such an overbearing shit for a day or two, and we actually seem like we have stuff in common, the same goals. And I think, fuck, maybe I could work with you, maybe you're not so bad. And then, boom, he goes right back to the usual."

"The impossible dream of leftist unity huh?"

"Yup."

"Well, atleast he's not a trot, eh? Still some hope as long as that's true."

Ancom snorted, despite qimself. "Yeah, I suppose he's not  _ that _ sectarian."

“Anyways, how long do you want to stay for? I'm organising some union stuff here this week, so it isn’t gonna be just you and me, but I’m fine with you being here as long as you need.”

“I’m probably not gonna stay that long, don't worry. Got a centricide to be doing and all. Eventually."

“I still don’t get that by the way. I mean don’t get me wrong, fuck libs, but I hate Nazi and that Capitalist a whole bunch more than I care about a bunch of centrists.”

Ancom made a face. “Yeah the Nazi is a piece of shit. And, ugh, ancap keeps tryin to get me to join some pyramid scheme thingimy, but like, fuck centrists man?”

An-syn shrugged.

“I guess. I just feel like you get more done when you’re actually focusing on what’s closer to you, bringing together people that aren’t utter dicks.”

Ancom smiled. “You’re like, so fuckin good at that shit dude. Like, mutual aid and solidarity and organising crap.”

“And you do a good job beating up fash when you’re not blazed out of your mind, Ancom."

"Shut up."

"What? It's  _ true _ ."

* * *

Anarcho-Syndicalism had a statist to chew out. He never did learn his lesson about taking into account other people's needs, honestly,  _ authoritarians. _

Ancom had gone upstairs to get an early night's rest, which was honestly more worrying than the black eye qi were sporting. But hey, qi seemed fairly okay otherwise and qi would likely stick around for a couple days before heading back to that centricide clusterfuck. An-syn wanted a revolution as much as the next leftist, but you didn't achieve progress working with bosses for fucks sake.

Shaking his head, he went out into the hall to call Tankie. He answered the phone on the sixth ring.

"What do you want Syndicalist?"

"Oh I don't know, a revolution, power to the workers, you to stop being such a fucking dick to Ancom, the usual."

"I am not dick to them!"

"Christ, they/them is better, but would it kill you to just use qir pronouns!"

Tankie cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Fine. Qim. I am not a dick to qim."

"Oh yeah, obviously, the way that qi're miserable as all hell because you 'stared at qim like qi were gross' makes that very clear."

There was an audible wince on the other end of the line. Well, atleast some of it was getting through then.

"Qi don't do stuff like this very often, I forget that qi are serious-"

"Would it kill you to just, believe qim? To just listen to what qi tell you?"

"Would it hurt qim to not read the worst intent onto my face?"

"You're like a toddler, honestly, fucking apologise every once in a while for when you do fuck up and qi might be less jumpy around you."

"And how am I meant to do dat ven qi disappear into thin air!"

"You have a phone, you're using it right now, just so you know. You could consider just  _ calling  _ qim."

Tankie huffed, aggravated.

"You get that?" An-syn prodded.

"Da."

An-syn let out a slow breath.

"Just, you really hurt qim okay? And I like it a whole lot better when you two are getting along."

Tankie sighed as well. "I get your point comrade."

"Good. I'd best be off then." An-syn hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True leftist unity: dunking on trots lmaooooo


	4. Chapter 4

Ancom stared with slitted eyes at qir phone as it kept lighting up with notifications, despite qim trying to glare it into submission. Qir arm was _warm_ goddamn it, qi didn't want to poke it out from under the covers to shut the thing up. Maybe qi could just reach over and try to keep sheets covering qim while qi did it?

"BUZZ! BUZZ!"

Qi jumped, accidentally uncovering a shoulder and yelping. Qi grabbed the phone and huddled back down, frowning. Fucking cold. Fucking loud ass phone. Bigots and cops the lot of them.

Fumbling with the cracked screen, qi unlocked it to see who was bothering qim. It took qim a second to work out who the texts were from, qi _really_ needed to stop changing all qir contact names while high as hell, it was an ordeal to deal with later.

From vvvvvvvvvvvvvokeya: Ancom, call me so I can talk to you.

From vvvvvvvvvvvvvokeya: I will just come to Syndicalist's house if you do not call me.

From vvvvvvvvvvvvvokeya: He leaves the door open for his cat, it would not be hard to get in comrade.

From vvvvvvvvvvvvvokeya: Ancom.

Crap. But also, An-syn just left his back door open for Sabo-Tabby? The fuck?

While qi were stuck on that, Tankie started typing again. Qi shook qir head and just called him, before he actually followed through.

"Comrade."

"What do you want Tankie?" God qir voice sounded creaky.

"I wished to apologise Ancom. I do not mean to make you feel… I should not forget your transexual, uh, ness. You are my broth- shit, _sibling_ in arms."

Ancom could feel an odd pain in qir chest. Like someone was tugging on a nerve tucked up close to qir lungs.

Qir voice wasn't even angry when qi spoke, just quiet. Qi sounded resigned more than anything. "I'm not leaving the centricide Tankie. You don't need to fake your way through some apology."

"You, would it kill you to think I am not worst friend in existence Anarkiddie?" Ancom could hear the scowl in his voice.

"I know you don't believe any of what I say about my gender Tankie. I'm not _stupid_. I can tell when people think I'm a crossdressing freak, okay?"

"I do not-" Tankie made a noise like an aggravated bear. "Will you just listen to me?"

Ancom didn't say anything.

"I admit I do not understand all of it. But I will try, da?"

"Fine. Cool. Apology accepted, I'll be back in a day or two-"

"You don't believe me." Tankie sounded, hurt maybe?

Ancom opened qir mouth to lie, and closed it again a moment later. God qir throat was tight.

"Sorry, I guess."

Tankie didn’t say anything. The silence made the sheets feel like a collapsed building crushing qim. Qi breathed out slowly, and very carefully fought the urge to hang up.

“I am bad at talking over phone,” He said, finally, sounding resentful. “I, why do you not believe me, comrade?”

Why didn't qi believe Commie? You sort of get tired of listening to half meant apologies the hundreth time your father not-so-subtly makes a face at you doing _anything_ even slightly queer. You get a bit exhausted the tenth time you have to correct a friend during a conversation on your pronouns. You feel like sleeping for a week when you hear people stop pretending to try whatsoever the moment they think you aren't listening.

“I- look. I’ll believe you eventually, if you actually mean it this time, okay? But just, leave me be right now.”

“Alright.”

Ancom hung up, before burying qir face into their pillow. _Fuck_.

* * *

Commie felt… His annoyance at Ancom had mostly faded at some point, after Syndicalist's words, and the exhausted tone in Ancom's voice. He was pretty much just sorry by now. It admittedly didn't happen very often.

He'd given the other leftist a day alone, after the way that phone call had panned out. But yeah, no, he didn't want to wait until Ancom was back at Ancap's house to properly patch things up, not with the other two there to interfere.

Hopefully the little bottles of nail polish clinking in the pockets of his slacks would be a decent enough gesture to smooth things over.

As he strode down the street towards Syndicalist's house, he was drawn out of his thoughts by the man's cat _staring_ at him. He froze, sizing it up. That cat had two settings, hell beast attack mode, and cuddling demon. Both were, not exactly ideal.

He stared at it. It stared back, unblinking.

"Are you still scared of my cat?" Came An-syn's voice.

"No." He said, not looking away from the furry monster.

"Of course. Obviously." Syndicalist was laughing at him. "Ancom! Come rescue Tankie from the big scawwy kitty." His voice went comically high, as he trailed off into a baby voice and fussed the cat.

As usual, the cat purred loudly and jumped up to stand on his shoulders. Commie didn't stop giving it the stink eye, but he fled gratefully while it was distracted.

As he walked through the doorway, he saw Ancom coming in through the backdoor, presumably having heard An-syn from the garden. Qi looked a lot better than qi had days ago, qi were sober, for one. The hoodie and joggers were back on though.

Qir face was unobstructed today, so he got a full view of the trapped wild animal look that painted it's way across qir face. 

"I can go, if you really do want." He said, mostly telling the truth. He'd put up _some_ fuss, but he likely would leave eventually.

"It's whatever. You can stay." Qi said, not all that much life to qir voice. The awkwardness broke a second later, when qi said, "So, uh, still not a fan of the cat?" In a tone not far enough away from laughter.

“Do not start.”

“Start what?” Qi snickered.

“I will bin your stash of LSD.” He threatened. Qi looked satisfyingly cowed by that.

“Hey! There’s no need to do anything like that. Buzzkill.”

“Addict.”

“I haven’t had anything in like a day! Could an addict do that?” Ancom retorted, before actually hearing qimself say the words out loud. “Don’t answer that.”

Commie smiled, and stayed silent.

Now that qi were a little closer, he noticed that qir hands were covered in dirt, and qi had touches of red dusting the tops of qir cheeks from the sun. Commie tended to forget, but qi always had loved plants. Just tended to drop the hobby when qi were going through a more depressive episode. Which was almost always, these days. The revolution could not come soon enough.

Remembering the gift, he fished around in his pocket and brandished the bottles at qim.

"I guessed you'd like red and black."

"Oh, shit. Thanks dude." Qi sounded a little too shocked for Commie's pride, but he managed to hold back the bitterness. He might deserve it, just a little. Maybe.

...

Okay no, he still thought that he did well enough with the whole transgendered thing, personally, but he could be diplomatic. He was more interested in Anarkiddie still speaking to him than _always_ defending himself.

The look on qir face, a rare grin, helped quash the feeling completely. Ancom was pretty when qi let qimself smile properly.

"No problem, comrade."

"I'll put it on later, can't really right now," Qi waved qir grubby hands in explanation, "gardening, y'know."

"You missed Commune allotment?" He guessed.

"Always." Qi sighed, nostalgia tinging qir words. "But, well. I love syndicalist right, you know that, but his tomatoes are painful to see Commie. _Painful_." Qi looked genuinely mournful about the state of An-syn's tomato vines.

"What has he done to them?"

"I mean for one thing, I don't think he ever actually waters them? Just tries to leave it all to rain? I actually can't figure out how he hasn't killed them yet, it's driving me nuts."

As qi continued ranting about the crimes against agriculture Syndicalist had committed, qi caught one of his hands and tugged him along with qim outside.

"-and worst of all, I'm pretty sure he stopped using the compost bin I set up for him like six months ago!"

Commie nodded along, enjoying the warmth of qir hand in his. He'd have to let go soon, it was utterly too hot out, but it was nice while it lasted.

He had to admit that the garden was in a sorry state, even if he didn't think it was quite as bad as Ancom had been describing. There were definitely more weeds than whatever was meant to be growing.

"Anything I can dig for you, Comrade?" He asked. It would be nice to do some proper labor. He hadn't in quite some time.

"Yeah! Thanks Commie." 

* * *

They were resting in the shade, the sun trickling through small gaps to rest on them. Ancom ached all over, but it was a good kind of ache. Tankie was a firm presence next to qim, his presence feeling comforting instead of overbearing for the moment.

They had gotten a lot done, and the garden was looking a lot healthier. Tankie would say “orderly”, but there was no such thing when it came to plants. They did what they wanted, and you could _ask_ them to grow one way or another, could give them care and help them out a little, but at the end of the day you couldn’t outright control them. Ancom liked that.

Commie’s voice qim interrupted qir musings.

“It- Did I really hurt you? You sounded… well. Not great over the phone.”

That was a loaded question. But it was late in the afternoon, and a content lassitude was still filling qim, so qi answered calmly enough.

“Mmm. Kinda, yeah.”

“Sorry.”

Ancom took pity on him, Tankie had never been good at being apologetic, not really in his nature, no matter how bad he felt about something. And to be honest, qi had pretty much forgiven him by now.

“It’s honestly fine Tankie. I mean it.”

Qi glanced over at him, taking in the scowl still drawn across his face. When you ignored the death glare he was directing at himself, his eyes were pretty as all fuck. Ancom looked away.

“Do you like dresses too?”

Well. That was a subject change.

“Not really? I don’t know, only worn em once or twice. Bit too femme I guess.”

“Oh, da.” He didn't sound like he understood, but whatever.

“Skirts are fun though. All swishy.” Qi felt a small smile grow on qir face. “And longer hair, I'd like that, with an undercut or something. Oh, or a mohawk!"

“I can’t quite picture you with long hair.” Commie said, sounding considering.

“Dya think I wouldn’t be able to pull it off?”

“No, I think you could. At least until you wrecked it with bleach and dye.”

“I haven’t fucked up a dye job in years!” Qi protested. Commie made an incredulous noise. “Or months. Yeah no okay, it’s only been months.”

“It was puke green for three weeks.”

“I _liked it._ ” Qi may have screeched.

Commie turned, and just  _ looked  _ at qim. He finally said, “You ran out of money and couldn’t afford any more bleach.”

Qi thought about trying to argue that, but he was sort of right. Qi had looked like a hungover cosplayer. Not qir finest hour.

Qi let qir head rest on Commie’s shoulder, suddenly feeling unreasonably tired. And kinda craving a cigarette. Commie put an arm around qim.


End file.
